


Always in a Dream

by alexcat



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:11:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexcat/pseuds/alexcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glorfindel has a dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always in a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Larian  
> Author’s Note: Written for this prompt: Rating = R  
> Pairing = Glorfindel/Erestor and Glorfindel/Ecthelion (implied)  
> Story elements = Glorfindel had a re-occurring dream of he and a dark haired lover. In Gondolin he always thought it was Ecthelion, but Thel never thought of him as anything more than a friend. When returned, Glorfindel meets Erestor after much confusion, finally realizes that Erestor is the dark hair lover he always dreamed of.  
> does_not_want = rape  
> Since there was little story for me to write, I let the characters take over and things did not turn out as I had thought.  
> For Tena

ALWAYS IN A DREAM 

Glorfindel woke with a start. 

He had the dream again. The one he had at least once a week. He was following another elf through the forest. There was no danger facing them. As a matter of fact, the other elf seemed to be his lover and they were going to some unknown destination to be together. He knew this to be true in the way that one knew things in dreams that they could not explain. 

The other elf had silky dark hair that he wore in a braid down his back. He was almost as tall as Glorfindel and he knew the forest well, as evidenced by his confident stride. It was all Glorfindel could do to keep up. They walked a long way in a comfortable silence until for some reason Glorfindel realized that he did not know who his lover was. 

Just as he caught up with the other elf and was about to put his hand on his companion’s shoulder, he awoke. He always woke at this point; never seeing who the elf was, never finding out the identity of his mysterious lover. 

*

The longer they lived in Gondolin, the less time they spent readying themselves for the battle that was sure to come someday. Living in a hidden land had made them ever more complacent about their safety so instead of sparring daily as they had for many years, Glorfindel and Ecthelion spent much of their time sitting by the fountain centered just inside one of the seven gates to the city and right in front of Ecthelion’s home. 

Ecthelion often played his flute or sang songs from their homeland and they both told stories of their homeland to the younger soldiers from both houses who gathered about to listen. The air was charged with good humor and hope. These were the golden days, the time of peace before that serpent, Maeglin, entered their lives and destroyed them all. 

Glorfindel had known Ecthelion for all of his life, even before they’d crossed the ice with the cursed sons of Fëanor. They were best friends and his recurring dream had Glorfindel thinking that they perhaps should be more. It was not uncommon for soldiers to bond here in this new land, since so many of the women had stayed behind and many of those who had come had died in the grinding ice of Helcaraxë. 

Glorfindel did not say anything to his friend, thinking that he would know when the time was right or that perhaps Ecthelion would give him some sign of his own interest. The dream had made him sure that this love would come to pass so he had no doubts nor was he in any hurry. Life was too good as it was to upset the balance. 

Then Maeglin and his mother made their way to Gondolin, bringing Eöl in their wake. The day Eöl attempted to murder his son and killed his wife instead was the day that Gondolin ceased to be a peaceful haven and became the armed fortress that it had once been. Gone were the easy days of song and story as all the soldiers began to train and spar on a daily basis again. Fear became a part of their lives once more. 

Glorfindel began to think that perhaps he should approach Ecthelion about his feelings. Times had changed and no one felt as safe as they had before. Any day could be the day that they were found by the Dark One. He decided to wait. 

Turgon seemed enamored of Maeglin but Glorfindel found him to be a sneaky skulking creature that he did not trust out of his sight. Idril felt the same way about him and told anyone who would listen with the exception of her father. 

Things worsened so slowly that it seemed almost natural when everyone began to distrust his neighbor though no one said anything out loud. Ecthelion and Glorfindel continued to be best friends and they continued to train. Glorfindel began to look at Ecthelion as more lover than friend though he still said nothing. 

Glorfindel had still not spoken of his feelings when Maeglin’s final betrayal began to reign down destruction on them all though he finally did confess on the final evening they spent together. They knew the end was coming. Nothing could withstand their enemy and his balrogs. They planned to attempt to save Idril and her son. That was all they could do. 

“Glorfindel, you must make sure that Idril and the boy make it out. The city is falling and we are doomed, but we must save what we can.” Ecthelion had no plans to leave his beloved home. He would die here, defending it from evil. 

Before they parted, Glorfindel put his hand on Ecthelion’s shoulder. “I have waited too long to confess my love for you, my friend. I fear it is too late for us.” 

The oddest look passed over Ecthelion’s face. His eyes fell for a moment then he looked back up at Glorfindel. He looked as sad as Glorfindel had ever seen him. “My dearest friend, I have often wondered these past months if you felt more for me than simple friendship. I never spoke of it though for it could never be. You are the best friend I have ever had but my heart belonged to one who perished in the ice, leaving it as cold and dead as she was.” 

Glorfindel saw him die a scant few hours later, with one arm severed yet fighting still until he stabbed the fiery demon with the tall sharp pike on his helm and pushed until they both fell into the fountain that Ecthelion had loved so well, making the once sparkling water run the color of blood. The Balrog died along with the finest elf that Glorfindel had known. 

He remembered screaming as he watched his best friend die and then turning to see Idril’s terrified face. It was then that he recalled his charge, to see to her safety. 

He grabbed her by the arm, shouting, “Come quickly to the mountain pass. It’s our only way out!” Idril, her son and many others followed, running frantically behind him until they were clear of the city. 

His memory always became a blur when he thought back to what happened next. They were ambushed and he fought a Balrog, as Ecthelion had. He remembered fighting and burning, the searing awful pain of being burned alive. 

*

Glorfindel had known no more until he awoke on the shores of Arda yet again. He had simply appeared, fully-grown and the same person he had been in his former life. No one told him but he knew he had been sent to lead warriors against the darkness once again. 

It was not Morgoth himself but his servant, Sauron, this time. His power was not quite as great as that of his predecessor but evil is evil and the battle for Middle Earth was beginning in earnest yet again. Glorfindel lived in Imladris with Elrond, the grandson of Idril. He was pleased to be sent to defend this elf and this family once again. He had sworn his loyalty to Turgon in Aman of old and he still held it as an oath though not as odious an oath as that of Fëanor and his sons. 

Life in Imladris was not always war though. Elrond’s haven was home to many who were eager to enjoy life. The Hall of Fire was often filled with merriment. They had singing and dancing as well as poetry and readings from the many histories and books of lore housed in Elrond’s libraries. Both men and elves gathered to learn and enjoy life in the safety of Elrond’s home. 

“Tell us again of Gondolin.” Elrond’s young sons never tired of hearing about the hidden city of their great grandfather and they would beg for a story almost every night before their mother sent them off to bed. 

The storytelling often went on long after the little ones were abed. Glorfindel noticed there was one dark haired elf who seemed to pay particular attention to his stories. That one was called Erestor. He said very little at the family gatherings but in council, he often gave his opinion and argued it with well-honed skill. He was tall and handsome in a cool, distant way with his shiny black tresses and his deep grey eyes. 

This actually put Glorfindel off a bit as he still fancied himself in love with his tragic friend, Ecthelion. 

“Come, Glorfindel, tell us of life in Gondolin,” Erestor asked. “Was the city as beautiful as it is said?” 

Glorfindel smiled and began to tell of the houses of the Lords of Gondolin. Ecthelion was Lord of the House of the Fountain. His home had been near one of the fabled fountains just inside the main entrance to the hidden city. He had small fountains in his courtyard that looked like the much larger ones that ran down the center section of the city. 

His home was built from stone and polished marble from the Encircling Mountains and shone so brightly that Glorfindel remembered seeing his reflection as if looking into a mirror. 

Erestor smiled as he talked, some of the chill leaving his face as he did. “Tell us of the food. Did Lord Turgon set a good table?”

“It was magnificent but so is the food here. I have never had such tasty roasted pork.” He paused to take a bite of the tender, juicy meat. He seemed to love the things of the flesh more since he had returned from wherever he had been after he had died in Gondolin. He didn’t even notice how Erestor hung on every word. 

He didn’t notice how Erestor seemed to drift away when he talked and talked of the virtues of Lord Ecthelion. It might have bothered him had he paid attention. 

One evening, Glorfindel went to sleep very late, after several cups of wine and too much food. An hour later, he woke with a start. 

The dream! 

It was back and it was as it had always been, ending before he ever got a chance to see who the elf was that he followed. He really could not understand why he had it now. He was sure that it had been about Ecthelion, who had been dead these many, many years. Perhaps he waited for Glorfindel in the West? But hadn’t Ecthelion told him that they were only friends, nothing more? 

The world has a way of distracting everyone and Glorfindel forgot the dream as life became busy for him in Imladris. He not only led the armies during battle but he trained the young soldiers in use of arms as well as working with his captains on strategy against Sauron and his minions.

Erestor trained with the young and was there for the strategy sessions also. For some reason, this irritated Glorfindel. If an elf needed to be trained with beginners, then he had no business being privy to the serious business of planning a war. 

He went to Elrond to ask that Erestor stop coming to the planning sessions. 

“No. He will be there. Though he has not had much actual battlefield experience, he is very experienced in knowing how to win a battle. Erestor stays.”

“I do not like the way he looks at me.” Glorfindel knew he was being childish and petty but he was not used to being told no when he asked for something. He was hero, after all. 

Elrond, who had been looking for a book on one of the shelves in his study, whirled around, his face angry. “I do not care! He will be a part of any discussion about anything I say he will be a part of here in Imladris. I realize you are a hero and an experienced warrior but this is still my home and as such, I am still the one who gives the orders here. Is that clear, Glorfindel of Gondolin?” 

Thus Glorfindel was forced to accept Erestor, but he did so grudgingly. 

*

Glorfindel had never warmed up to Erestor, even after being in Imladris for hundreds of years and it seemed that Erestor had come to feel the same about him. He no longer asked for stories of Gondolin nor did he even speak to Glorfindel if he could avoid it.

Glorfindel still had the dream now and again. He would wake suddenly, breathless and upset that he once again failed to see who the other elf was. 

*

Years passed and evil came again to Middle Earth. The Ring awoke and Mordor answered. Frodo was accosted and nearly killed by the Ringwraiths as he made his way to Imladris with the One Ring. Glorfindel had rescued him and returned him to the care of Elrond. 

When the little hobbit had healed sufficiently, Elrond held a council much like the White Council had been years before. Dwarves, elves, and men had come to discuss what to do about the Ring and wakening of Mordor. 

Glorfindel and Erestor attended the conference. Erestor was introduced as the Chief Councilor of Imladris. Glorfindel was a little shocked. He knew that Elrond relied on him but he had never actually heard the other elf’s title. He felt a tiny tinge of jealousy toward Erestor. 

As one who had fought the Witch King before, he thought the idea of hiding the Ring, as Erestor proposed, to be a good idea but he never said so. The other attendees did enough arguing and backbiting for them all. It was almost amusing to watch them. It was only when the little hobbit that he had rescued spoke up and volunteered to take the Ring that things grew a bit quieter. 

After it was settled that a group of nine chosen from the representatives there would return the Ring to Mount Doom and destroy it, Glorfindel followed Erestor into the house. 

“How is it that you are the Chief Councilor of Imladris? You who have never fought a war?” 

Erestor stared at him. “I came across the ice too, my friend. I traveled with the sons of Fëanor. I helped to plan and execute some of their,” he paused as if unsure what to say.

Glorfindel broke in angrily, “-atrocities. They were atrocities when elves killed one another over three pieces of stone.”

Erestor nodded. “Indeed they were. I have paid for my sins in ways that you cannot know and now I am here to help those who would make sure such things never happen again.”

“Elrond knows this?” 

“Indeed he does. This is his city. I would not mislead him.”

Glorfindel was angry still. “You are not fit to polish the boots of those who died in the wars with Fëanor.”

“Perhaps not. Yet here I am.” Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Glorfindel staring after him. 

Oddly enough, Glorfindel noticed how handsome Erestor was, how black his hair, how dark the grey of his eyes. He shook his head and headed for his own rooms, wondering what had gotten into him to be thinking of the Feanorian in such a way. 

But once the seed of Erestor’s attractiveness was planted in Glorfindel’s mind, it would not go away. He began to watch Erestor. Though Erestor looked nothing like Ecthelion, he was as beautiful as the Hero of the Fountain had been. He had, over time, become a rather formidable warrior too so Glorfindel could not find any fault with him for not being a soldier either now. 

He even went so far as to fantasize about Erestor before he went to sleep at night, imaging the other elf’s lips around him as he moved his hand up and down his own hard shaft in an attempt to get to sleep. He would cry out Erestor’s name as he spilled himself onto his belly. 

*

When the dream came again, Glorfindel became convinced that it was Erestor instead of Ecthelion that had been the dark haired elf in his dream all along. It made sense to him and he convinced himself that Erestor was meant for him because he had dreamed of him for thousands of years. 

This time he would tell Erestor. He would not lose valuable time with the one he loved because he was too stubborn to say anything. He decided that perhaps he would talk to Elrond first. Elrond had proved to be wise and fair in all things for as long as Glorfindel had been in Imladris. 

“You want to court Erestor?” Elrond seemed dumbfounded. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, but you do as you think best.”

“Why is it not a good idea?” Glorfindel was truly puzzled. He knew that Elrond had great affection for Erestor and for him too, or so he thought. 

“Erestor has never shown any interest in anyone, male or female since he asked to join us so many years ago.”

“Are you sure he wishes to be alone?”

Elrond thought for a moment and nodded. “Yes, my dear friend. I am almost certain that he prefers to be alone.” 

“I disagree and I shall prove it to you.” 

Elrond looked as if he would say more but he only said, “As you will,” then turned back to looking for a scroll on his cluttered desk. 

Glorfindel decided to pick a public festival as the first time he would court Erestor publicly and the harvest festival was coming soon. Farmers from all over, even as far as the Shire, would bring their goods to sell and give away on the autumn streets of Imladris. 

It would be a nice send off for Gandalf and the Fellowship as well as a chance for everyone to enjoy once last festival before things worsened in Middle Earth. 

Erestor went into the forest every morning after breakfast. Glorfindel always assumed he went for some kind of meditation so he had never followed him but he did this day. He followed him until he lost him. Erestor was nowhere to be seen. Then he saw him again, fully fifty feet in front of him! How had he done that? He hurried to catch up when it struck him that this was his dream. 

He got closer and closer until he reached out to touch Erestor on the shoulder. 

Erestor turned, his face not the happy one that Glorfindel thought he’d see but an angry one. “Why do you follow me?”

“I wanted to ask you if I could escort you to the Harvest Festival.”

“How many years have you been here?”

Glorfindel was puzzled. “Hundreds. Why?” 

“When you first came, I was thrilled to be with an elf who had lived in Aman, who had come from where I did. It did not hurt that you were a hero too. I had heard tales of your bravery for years and years. Imagine my surprise when you were such a self-centered ass! The longer I knew you, the more I held you in contempt. The topper was when you asked Elrond to remove me from the War Council. I was advising warriors when you were still in swaddling clothes and you dare to say such things about me! Go back to Imladris and tell your stories of how you and Ecthelion were the bravest elves who ever lived and leave me alone. I have no need of a hero.”

For a moment, Glorfindel was taken aback. He knew in his heart that all the things Erestor said were true. He had been an ass, both to Erestor and to Elrond. He did not say anything, simply withdrew his hand and turned to walk away, back to Imladris but not to tell his story and not to brag of his past heroics. Not this day. 

He stopped by Elrond’s study first. 

“What can I do for you? I do not have much time. I have to preside over the festivities.”

“I have come only to ask your forgiveness for all my faults.”

Elrond nodded. “You are forgiven, my friend. You truly are a hero though modesty is certainly not your strong suit.” His smile was slight but Elrond did smile at him. 

Glorfindel bowed and left the room, going to his own room. 

Several days passed before the Balrog Slayer came to the Hall of Fire for a meal with all the rest of the family. When he did, he was a gentle, humble soul. He told his stories when asked but he was no longer the larger than life hero of his own life. He was simply Glorfindel of Gondolin. 

The dream never came again. 

~end ~


End file.
